A Light in the Darkness
by Sharp Riley
Summary: The newsies strike from a girls point of view. written in ferst person point of veiw. It's the story of Brook Riley, Sharpshooter to the neswies, and how she came to be a newsies, and her neverending search for her brother. It's filled with adventure, sus


NOTE: All none-movie character names are owned by me. None of my character are to be used in other fanfics without my permission. plz.email me if u would like to use them.

It was the summer of 1899. The Spanish-American War was being fought. Newspapers everywhere were sending reporters over seas to get war photos and top stories. New York was perhaps the busiest place in the United States. At least, it was to me. My name is Brook Riley, but my friends call me Sharpshooter. Why Sharpshooter, you ask? You see in order to answer that question I'd have to tell you a little about my past first. My mother died during child birth. Jacob, my twin brother who's two minutes older than me, and I were left with my father. He was a kind man. Although, I have to say I'm glad he wasn't so uptight about me acting like a girl, even though I was one. He did, however, make me wear a dress whenever we went over to anyone's home. Sadly, my father passed away when my brother and I were only seven. We lived on the streets for a while, until we found a job. We worked in sweatshops for a few years, until we were finally arrested when we were eleven for trying to steal bread to eat. We were both sent to different refuges. A refuge is like a jail for kids, and not at all fun. The warden's that run them are all mean. I received news a few months later that my brother had escaped from the one he was at, and heading to Queens, our hometown, to find me. Only, I wasn't in Queens. I was in Harlem. He was in the Bronx at the moment and on his way home only to find that I wasn't there.  
Thankfully, with a little help from some other kids, I escaped the refuge and headed out to find my brother. When I arrived in Queens, I came only to find that he wasn't there. I got news from a sweatshop boy that we knew that he was on his way to Brooklyn to look there for me. So, again I set out to meet up with my brother. To my great distress, he had left and no one knew where he had set off for next. As I sat crying on an abandoned porch step, a boy found me. He wasn't my brother, but someone that would prove later to be a great friend. Spot Conlon was his name. Leader of the Brooklyn newsies, so he told me. Spot helped me learn to be a newsie. He taught me all he knew about selling papers. Spot also taught me how to fight, so I wouldn't get hurt. Being a girl it was a hard life on the streets. He also taught me to shoot a slingshot, which is how I got my nickname.  
I had only just learned how to shoot a slingshot, when we ran into a little trouble in our group. Some of the working boys who worked in the nice department stores and loved to pick on those who had lesser jobs, like us newsies, decided to pick on us one day. Sadly, they didn't know how good of a fighter Spot and his group were. We ended us in what you might call a brawl. What seemed like thousands of upper class boys came with big sticks, slingshots, and other weapons to beat the pulp out of us with. The fight was terrible. We were outnumbered five to one. Thankfully, Spot had shown me how to shoot a slingshot, because it was the only thing that saved me from getting killed that day. When the fight was over, most of the boys on both sides had a bloody mouth or something else. Some even had a broken bone or two. "You've won this time, Conlon, but we'll be back. You'll pay, Conlon! You'll pay!" Brad, the leader of the upper class boys said holding his bloody mouth as he left. He was almost half-way out of sight when he turned around and said, "Next time make it a fair fight and lose the girl." That make my anger grow. I pulled out my slingshot, loaded it, and fired. It hit him right in the head. He went face first to the ground. His friends had to help him up as the Brooklyn newsies went up in a big cheer. Spot patted me on the back, and that night gave me the nickname Sharpshooter. I lived in Brooklyn for three years. I was fourteen when I left. I would have stayed, but the bulls were after me still form escaping from the refuge, and were heading into Brooklyn to look for me. I left to Manhattan. Spot sent word to Jack, the leader of the newsies there that I was coming. He met me just off the Brooklyn bridge to take me to the newsboys lodging house where I would be living. I would work in Manhattan as a newsies, and live with the boys there. I would have my own bed set off in the corner of the room with a curtain so none of the boys could see me. And that's where I am now. I've been here for a year and love it. I go to Brooklyn ever now and then to see Spot and the other boys and to see if they have heard anything about my brother yet. No one knows anything of him yet, but all ears are open to help me. 


End file.
